


Not like I'll faint everytime we touch

by colazitron



Series: Fic Advent 2012 [2]
Category: One Direction, Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-02
Updated: 2012-12-02
Packaged: 2017-11-26 09:34:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/649154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colazitron/pseuds/colazitron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is the Radio One Breakfeast Show's Excecutive Production Assistant  - or as he calls it "little bitch". Nick Grimshaw is being horrible. Harry doesn't want to listen to Louis' whining anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not like I'll faint everytime we touch

Louis's quite aware that they're possibly the strangest boy group there is. They're not exactly a boy band, really. They lack the choreography, the synthesized music and most of all the record deal. They're not really a "real" band either (much as Louis hates that signifier). Niall's great with his guitar and Louis and Liam are passable enough at the piano (Liam has more discipline for practice, but Louis has a natural affinity for it; something he tries desperately not to be too proud of) but Harry's hopeless with anything more than a simple rhythm and even that he can't keep as soon as you hand him drum sticks. He's fine with clapping and stomping and those drums you hit with your hands, but as soon as you get him an actual drum kit he's lost. He's like that a lot, actually. Prefers to get his hands directly onto whatever it is he's doing, that one. Louis can personally attest to a few areas where that's definitely a plus, but that's neither here nor there. Zayn, for his part, is simply not interested enough to ever truly pick up an instrument, though he does make Niall teach him a few chords every now and then. Louis has a sneaking suspicion that he waits just long enough to forget them before he asks again as some sort of sneaky (misguided, unnecessary) seduction attempt.

Point is, they're not a "real band" either.

They're not an a capella group either. Liam can beat box something fierce, even though no one suspects it, looking at him, but they're not inventive enough to build a backing track with just their vocals and they couldn't hold an audience's attention with it either. (They tried.)

So mostly they muck around somewhere in between all three of those. It works for them. Niall strumming his guitar and sometimes his mate Josh taking pity on them and hammering out a beat for them on a small drum kit in smoky little pubs. People like them because they have a lovely energy on any stage you put them on, but no one's liked them enough to ever offer them a real studio and a real go at it.

Frankly, it's getting depressing. What's more so is that it's getting to be winter and while Zayn, Liam and Niall are cosy enough in their flat with their parents willing to finance their musical escapades, neither Harry nor Louis are so lucky, which is how they find themselves in their current predicament.

"What do you mean, you can't make practice on Wednesday?" Harry asks, like Louis just told him he was cutting him out of his life for good.

"Just that. I can't make practice. I've got to work."

"No, you don't. You don't have a shift on Wednesday."

"I do now. I have a shift everyday now. I-" Louis sighs and takes the wooden spoon out of Harry's hand, placing it on the rim of the pot Harry was stirring in moments ago and grabs both his hands. "I got a new job."

"Why?" Harry's brow scrunches up in confusion.

"Because we can't really pay our bills anymore, Haz. We skirted by in summer, cause we didn't need much electricity and there was no heat to pay but it's gonna be pretty fucking cold soon and pretty fucking dark. Not to mention that winter requires more sustenance. We don't have the budget for it. You haven't had a job in a while - no, I'm not blaming you, it's just how it is - and we need more money."

Harry sighs and looks at the floor, dejected. The tiny record shop he's worked at has closed towards the end of summer and it's true that in an unlucky coincidence the model agency Harry's listed with haven't called much lately either.

"I'm sorry."

"No blame, Harry. It's not your fault. I know you're looking. I talked to Paul, actually, he's willing to hire you as my replacement."

Harry snorts, but lifts his head and grins at Louis.

"I do already spend enough time there anyway."

"Exactly. You know the menu by heart and you get on with George and Perrie. And making coffee isn't exactly the most difficult thing."

"Yeah."

"Listen," Louis says, squeezing Harry's hands that he's still holding on to. "I'm not backing out of the band or anything, yeah? This is just one of the obstacles we have to face. I don't fancy freezing my fabulous arse off and I know for a fact that you're fond of all your bits as well. We need the money. The band's still our game plan, but we need a base to lay that plan on, so to speak."

"Yeah, I know, you're right. It just feels a bit like giving up."

"We are not giving up, Harry Styles. I'll make a star of you yet, just you wait," Louis says fiercely and presses a firm but chaste kiss to Harry's lips. Their friendship does cross several lines of what most people would consider "normal" and it's true that they're intimately acquainted with all the hidden nooks and crannies of each other's bodies, but there's nothing between them but best friendship kind of love. They are soul mates, in a platonic way, but there's never going to be more between them. They know that people tend to think they're going to walk down the aisle towards each other at some point, but they tried that and it didn't work. It's not like it was a disaster, but despite their best efforts, they remained best friends who fucked sometimes and knew each other inside out. They never even had to break up. They just slowly slipped out of the habit of dating and back into hanging out with their best friend without ever even noticing until Zayn had clapped a sympathetic hand on Harry's shoulder and told him to "not be too upset" and that "their time would come". It had been quite amusing, actually, realising that they'd stopped dating without any intent of stopping. They've learned from it though and while they are a home to each other, they look for butterflies elsewhere.

"Okay," Harry says and turns back to his pasta sauce. "So what's that job you got."

"Um. It's got some fancy title I already forgot. Executive production assistant or something? Basically, I'm the Breakfast Show's little bitch."

"Wait, what?" Harry asks, turning to stare at Louis who has the decency to blush a bit. "The Breakfast Show? The BBC Radio One Breakfast Show with Nick Grimshaw? Now with more music?"

"The very same," Louis says and tries to shrug it off.

"How the fuck did that happen?! You could've led with that, you arse!"

"Yes, well. Didn't want you to get too excited to get through the rest of the conversation, did I," Louis grins. Harry has a bit of a hero-worshippy crush on Nick Grimshaw and Louis likes to tease him about it. It's quite cute, really and probably at least 50% why Harry spends so much time at the coffee shop Louis works at - it's right across the street from the Radio 1 studio. Louis'll admit that Nick has a stupidly lovely voice and his hands are quite gorgeous and all in all, he's not entirely Louis' type but no one he'd shove off his bed either. The way Harry talks about Nick though you'd think he personally hung the stars for him.

"Anyway, Paul said to be in at around three tomorrow so Pez can show you the ropes. You start with my Thursday shift."

"Perrie?"

"Back off, Styles," Louis says on a laugh. "You know Zayn's been trying to get with her forever."

"Yeah, that's his problem. He just tries."

"Haz."

"I wasn't going to! Sheesh. I like Perrie, can't I be pleased I don't have to deal with Cuthbert breathing down my neck every time I so much as look at George on my first day?"

Louis laughs as he remembers the many, many instances his co-worker’s jealous boyfriend has given Harry the evil eye for how he got George to giggle at his (admittedly stupid) jokes. George really giggles at any- and everything but apparently when George giggles at Harry it's something that Josh doesn't tolerate.

"You can't help you're charming," he says and gets out plates to set the table for them. From an outsider's perspective it's quite funny to watch how wary some people get of Harry for simply being Harry.

"No, I can't!" Harry wails. "You'd think people'd forgive me for it!"

"Poor baby," Louis coos and pecks Harry on the cheek on his way to get the cutlery. Harry tries to pout but can't keep his lips from pulling into a smile for too long and their evening returns to normal.

\---

The morning of Louis' first day at the Breakfast Show, Harry gets up with him, makes him a thermos of strong Yorkshire tea exactly the way Louis likes it and shoves it in his bag along with a packet of emergency biscuits before giving him a kiss and waving him out the door. It's a good thing he did, too, because when Louis collapses onto the counter of Paul's "Beanery", it's 11:30 and he's starving. Harry's wiping down the coffee machine in anticipation of the lunch hour rush.

"How was it?" he asks eagerly and grabs a mug for another tea for Louis. Louis groans into the surface of the counter. Harry's eyebrows take a hike up his forehead.

"That good?"

"Nick Grimshaw is the devil. Don't tell anyone I said that, because he could get me fired, but he is."

"Oh, come on, Lou. He can't be that bad," Harry says, setting the mug down in front of Louis and a plate with a freshly toasted parma ham panini next to it.

"No, he is. I know you worship him, but, really, Harry, find someone else to worship. He's the devil."

"What'd he do that's so despicable then?"

"What did he do? What didn't he do, Hazza. He's sent me on at least four errands that turned out to be hoaxes, he is deliberately obtuse and he insists on calling me 'darling'."

"I'm sure it's just banter, mate."

"'Darling', Harry."

"I call you 'darling', sometimes."

"You're Harry," Louis says, head still down on the counter. Harry shrugs his acceptance of the dismissal. He runs his hand through Louis' hair consolingly until Louis lifts his head and reaches for his tea.

"It'll get better."

"Thanks, Trevor Project," Louis says and takes a sulky bite of his panini. Harry gives him and encouraging smile and wipes down the counter. Having Louis' hair over it is probably not entirely hygienic.

\---

It doesn't get better. In fact, over the course of the next few weeks it gets worse. Louis comes out of work with deeper scowls on his face almost every day and it gets more and more difficult to coax him out of it. Frankly, Harry's getting a bit sick of it. Louis knows, of course, and he doesn't want to burden Harry. He's trying, he really is trying to just ignore Grimshaw. The rest of the team are perfectly lovely to him, it seems it's only the host of the show who's adamant about making each and every day he works at Radio 1 as difficult as possible, so Louis tries to ignore him, but it's sort of really difficult to ignore someone you're working for.

Nick's newest game, it seems, is to ask Louis for coffee and then send him back to make him a new one because this one's too strong, too weak, too sugary, not sugary enough, too milky, too hot or too cold. At this point Harry has to admit that he does sound like a bit of a dick. Louis makes a perfectly lovely cup of coffee. Harry's trying to come up with solutions for Louis' Nick problem, but nothing seems to work. It's only when he takes over Perrie's morning shifts for her that he comes up with a plan. If Louis's not the one making the coffee, Nick can't very well complain about him doing it wrong. So the next day he prepares the coffee and tea orders Louis knows by heart by now for the whole team and nips out the coffee shop to meet Louis in the lobby of the Radio 1 building at 9 am sharp.

"Here goes nothing," Louis says and shoots Harry a weak smile. Harry gives him an encouraging thumbs-up and doesn't mention that he's left a little note under the sleeve on Nick's cup.

\---

To Louis' surprise, it works.

"I still have no idea how you did that."

"Louis, it's been weeks. Nick's being nice to you. Can't you let it go?"

"No! It's bloody weird, mate. Do you put tranquilizers in his coffee or something?"

Harry only gives him a look and continues stacking mugs back on the rack from the dishwasher.

"Honestly, though, what can your coffee do that mine can't?"

"I have a professional coffee maker. I doubt the studio has one."

"Yeah. You're right. Still. It's just weird, alright?"

"Let it go, Louis. Just enjoy it."

"Alright," Louis says, sighing, like he's not going to let it go completely but do Harry a favour and stop talking about it now. "We still on for tonight with the lads?"

"Yeah. Liam said to be over by 6:30. He's got something new he wants us to try."

Louis nods along, even though Harry's got his back turned to him and can't see him. He knows Harry knows him well enough to know that his silence means agreement. The bell over the door jingles as it opens to admit a young, stressed-looking woman inside.

"Well, I'd better be off," Louis says, as she strides up to the counter. "See you at home."

"Can you get groceries?" Harry calls after him. Louis lifts his hand in a thumbs-up and Harry turns to the woman. "What can I get you?" Louis hears him ask, before the door falls shut behind him. It is weird how nice Nick is being to him, no matter what Harry says.

\---

"You know, he still calls me 'darling'."

"Who calls you 'darling'? Am I being replaced?" Louis rolls his eyes.

"Grimshaw. He's lovely now, but he still calls me 'darling'."

"So? He does that, doesn't he? He calls almost all his callers 'love' or 'babe' or something."

"Yeah, but it's like..."

"Like what?"

"Promise you won't laugh."

"Cross my heart," Harry says and draws an x over his heart with a finger.

"It's like he means it, sometimes," Louis says and if there is blush on his cheeks, Harry's nice enough not to mention it.

"Well," Harry starts carefully, wiping down the counter. Louis automatically lifts his mug to give him room. "Would that be so bad?"

"I mean," Louis says, now definitely blushing. Harry's a saint for not commenting, really. "I don't know? We barely talk or anything. Like, when he's not bossing me around. Why would he...?"

"Don't put yourself down Louis, you're a catch. Have you seen your arse?" Harry winks at him lewdly and Louis rolls his eyes.

"Harhar. I'm serious."

"So am I. I do miss that arse, sometimes." Harry smiles wistfully into the distance until Louis grabs his dish towel from him and smacks him with it.

"Haz. Focus."

"I don't know, Louis. Do you want him to?"

"To what?"

"To mean it."

"I... I don't know," Louis shrugs and think of Nick's floppy hair and how stupid it tends to look, pushed back by his headphones. He thinks of his cable knit sweaters that Louis would love to steal for himself. He thinks of his accent and how it's been burrowed into his brain after half an hour of listening to him talk for the first time, back when he was still just a voice on the radio and how much worse it is, now that he hears it in person. He thinks of how lovely his smile can be and how his hands are always strangely warm.

He lets his head drop down onto the counter.

"I think I have a crush," he says mournfully, feeling only marginally better when Harry pets his hair and murmurs "there, there".

\---

There's a representative from a record label at one of their tiny little pub shows who says he has people who want to meet them. It's the furthest they've ever gotten and they're all excited and aflutter for the week and a half until the meeting. They dress up smartly, in jeans and button downs and nice jumpers or blazers and try to look more confident and more professional than they actually are. The meeting starts out lovely and so promising until Louis feels Harry tense next to him. He shoots him a quick sideways glance but Harry's not looking at him. He's not even looking at the woman walking to them right now. He's staring at the man to her right, whose glance, Louis now notices, flickers from the papers in front of him to Louis and back. He seems to size all of them up, but his eyes linger on Louis more than anyone. It's when he speaks that Louis catches up with what Harry must've suspected before. He starts asking them about what kind of band they see themselves at, what kind of image they want to portray, what lifestyle they want to promote. Harry's jaw muscles clench and Louis presses his knee into his thigh under the table to calm him down. Liam's frowning by now as well, having caught on to the strange tension. Niall stays quiet the way he does when he's uncomfortable and Zayn looks about ready to burst. Harry and Liam stay blessedly diplomatic and friendly and take over most of the talking, Louis shrinking into his chair.

The deal falls through. They go out to a pub afterwards and even though they try to pep talk each other and remind each other that there are other labels, there will be other people, it was the first time they'd gotten that kind of interest in years and they have no idea if it'll ever happen again. No one tries to comfort Louis although they all have that look on their faces like they know exactly what kind of worm is squirming in his belly. Harry drives them home and stays quiet the entire time, but slips into Louis' bed, curling around him. He's still wound up, Louis can tell from how tense he is and how tightly he holds Louis.

"You're alright," he murmurs, turning around in his embrace and tracing his hands over Harry's face and arms and chest until he relaxes and slumps against Louis. It's then that Louis notices that Harry's tension had been keeping him together as well and as he feels the tears well up in his eyes he buries his face in Harry's chest. He doesn't have to say anything, because he knows that Harry knows what he's thinking anyway. The worst thing, he thinks, other than feeling like he let his boys down, is that they never said anything specific. They never attacked Louis outright and gave him a chance to defend himself. They never even asked. They just _assumed_ that he _wasn't the type they were looking for_. Harry pulls him close and coos at him until they both fall asleep, exhausted.

\---

A week after The Meeting Matt Fincham hands Louis an honest to god printed invitation to the Radio One Christmas Party.

"Bring a friend, if you want," he says with a smile.

"Really?" Harry, of course. No matter that Harry mostly seems to have dialled down his Grimshaw adoration, he'll still be elated to get to meet him.

"Sure. You've been great, you know. A real asset. And not just because you handled Grimmers so well and know where to get perfect coffee."

"It's right across the street," is all Louis can think to say because mostly he's been doing office work. Sending emails, co-ordinating schedules, filing, taking notes, making a shitload of photocopies that he thought would've gone out of style with the 21st century. He didn't think it was all that important. Matt laughs at him and claps him on the shoulder.

"You're a good one, Tommo. You should stay when they offer."

As of now, Louis's a temp. He's up for evaluation in January and if he's lucky, they'll ask him to stay on permanently.

"Thanks," Louis says, still a bit floored and unused to compliments. Matt grins at him a bit more before turning back to his computer.

\---

"I cannot believe we're here," Harry whispers as they enter the hall rented by Radio One for their Christmas party. To be honest, Louis can't either. He feels horribly out of place in his black skinnies and the light grey jumper, even though he knows how smart he looks in it. It's always a bit difficult to feel self-confident next to Harry though. It's no accident that he used to pay his share of rent in money he made off little modelling jobs. Clothes hang off his body like they were designed to fit him personally, even when they're the most generic things. Louis's sure he wouldn't look half as stunning in the simple white long sleeved t-shirt and black blazer Harry's paired with his own black skinny jeans. He really should be used to it by now.

"Yeah," he says back and looks around the room for familiar faces. He really has no idea what they're doing here.

"Louis Tomlinson," he then hears a familiar voice behind himself and can't help the involuntary smile that twitches onto his face as he turns around.

"Nicholas Grimshaw," he says. Nick grins at him and Louis ignores the butterflies the same way he has for weeks now.

"And you've brought us a gift!" Nick says, eyes landing on Harry and quite obviously looking him up and down. The corners of Louis's mouth twitch but he doesn't let his smile fall. Of course it'd be Harry.

"Harry," Harry says, holding out a hand for Nick to shake. "I make your coffee."

There's something in the way that Harry says it and how Nick's eyebrows shoot up that makes Louis want to ask questions but then Nick speaks and he files it away for later.

"Do you? Well, thank the Lord for you then. Yours is a lot better than Louis' here."

Louis doesn't have the time to be offended before Harry goes on, a smug smile playing around his lips.

"Actually Louis's the one who taught me," he says. Nick's eyes trail from Harry to Louis, one eyebrow arched in interest.

"Is he? You're just full of surprises, aren't you, darling?"

Louis only shrugs.

"You never asked."

"No, I suppose I didn't," Nick says, something in his face that Louis doesn't recognise. Somehow, seeing Nick in this non-work-related context is making him all jittery and confused. It's like he suddenly can't read him at all anymore. Nick looks at him for a beat longer and Louis can feel a flush creeping up into his cheeks, before Nick breaks their gaze and smiles at them both again.

"Well, I've got to go mingle. I'm terribly important, you know. Nice meeting you, Harry."

"Likewise," Harry says.

"See you around, darling," Nick says to Louis and with a pat to his shoulder leaves them. Louis turns to Harry and forgets what he was going to ask when he sees the stars in his eyes. He just has to laugh at the slightly star-struck expression Harry's wearing.

"Alright, Haz, don't cream your panties, now."

Harry flushes.

"Oh, shut up. We can't all work for actual celebrities."

"You make his coffee every day," Louis points out. "It is a bit like you're working for him."

Harry laughs and then lets his gaze sweep across the room.

"Let's look around, yeah?"

"Yeah, alright. Why not," Louis says and they each grab a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and push into the crowd.

 

It's safe to say that Louis's had a bit too much to drink. The walk to the loos seems a little longer than the previous two times he's taken it, the sounds of the Christmas party behind him still ringing loudly in his head and throbbing dully on the other side of the wall. He thinks he's going to ask Harry to leave when he gets back. It's got to be way past midnight and there's really not much more they can do here without making complete fools of themselves. Seeing as this is still somewhat Louis's place of employment, that would probably not be entirely too smart. He blinks against the harshly bright lights of the loo and goes through the motions of unzipping his fly and pulling out his dick on auto-pilot. Peeing is a really strange thing, when you think about it. After 2 am, Louis tends to think about everything. He shakes his head at himself as he shakes himself off and blinks harshly a few times in the hope to bring a bit more alertness back into his head as he steps in front of the sinks.

"Tired?" Nick asks out of bloody nowhere and Louis flinches and spins around, heart beating like a hammer.

"Jesus!" he says. Nick chuckles.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. Did you not hear me come in?"

Louis shakes his head and turns back around to wash his hands. He's not sure why Nick hovers. Judging by his slightly even more unkempt appearance, he's been having a good time himself.

"Enjoying yourself?" Nick asks.

"Yeah. 'S a good party," Louis says. He dries his hands and smiles at Nick awkwardly over the mirror. What _is_ he doing here?

"You've got a pretty great best mate," Nick says, out of the blue. Louis's brows furrow in confusion.

"Harry? Yeah, he's great. Um. He'll be out in the crowd somewhere, if you're looking for him."

"No, I'm not-" Nick cuts himself off and runs a hand over his face. He keeps it pressed over his mouth a while, his cheeks dragged down a bit and pulling his lower eyelid down.

"Did you know he sent me a message on one of my coffees one day?" he then asks.

"He what?" Louis has honestly no idea where this is coming from or where it's going.

"On my coffee. Under that little sleeve thingy. One day I pull it down and it says 'Don't be mean to Louis, you never know, his best mate could be making your coffee. Wouldn't want him to spit in it'. Was quite surprised, I must say."

"He _what_?" To be fair, it sounds like something Harry would do. "I'm so sorry, I promise I did not put him up to it. I-"

"No, don't apologise. It's lovely, actually, that he cares so much for you."

Louis bites his lip and stays quiet then, slowly turning around to face Nick, when he doesn't say anything more.

"I should..." he says, gesturing towards the door. He still has no clue what any of this is.

"I'm sorry," Nick blurts. "I'm sorry I was such a shit to you in the beginning. I didn't mean anything by it. Well, not anything bad."

"It's alright," Louis says though he has to admit that the apology does feel nice.

"You were just... you were really lovely and really gorgeous and really young and I was trying really hard not to notice any of that," Nick says. Louis blinks at him stupidly. He's got to have misheard, surely?

"I was... pulling pigtails. It was childish. I'm really sorry."

Pulling pigtails. Nick was...

"I don't understand," Louis says.

"Yes, Harry said you wouldn't. He sent me more messages over time, you know? Told me to stop being mean to you if I was only flirting, that you wouldn't understand. I don't know how he could've known from whatever you were telling him, but it was really eerie to receive these notes on my coffee."

"I'm... sorry?" Louis says, utterly, 100% confused now.

"I should've just listened to him. Louis, I... I quite like you. And I'd like to take you out."

Louis stares at Nick for what he's sure is too long, but Nick stays quiet and waits for him.

"You do?" he then says, small and unsure in a way he doesn't usually let himself be outside his circle of selected few.

"Very much," Nick says. Louis takes a breath and lets it sink in.

"Well. I guess, it is Christmas," he then says, still not entirely sure this is happening.

"A time for love?"

"A time for charity."

Banter is something Louis does on autopilot and as much as he loves his brain for it usually, sometimes he wishes he could just shove the words back in his mouth and make them unsaid. Did he really just infer that dating _Nick Grimshaw_ would be an act of charity on his part? Nick doesn't seem to mind, if the bellowing laugh he lets out is anything to go by.

"I promise it's a good cause."

"Well, then I can't really say now, can I?"

"No, you really can't."

"Alright then. You had better impress me, Nicholas."

"I'll be sure to do that, darling," Nick says and then steps closer and pulls Louis into a kiss. Louis's sure if alcohol weren't clouding both their judgements this wouldn't seem like a good idea, snogging in the loos at the official Christmas party. But with Nick's tongue in his mouth and his beautiful long fingers wrapped around his neck and one wrist, it seems like the most brilliant idea. Nick smells of cologne and sweat and a little bit of fruity alcohol concoctions. His t-shirt's soft under Louis' fingers and he likes how he has to tilt his head back to kiss him. He's missed this. The last person tall enough to kiss him like this was Harry and those kisses never had the same kind of thrill. This one is making his knees week and his heart flutter. It's a good kiss. Impressive, almost.

"Alright," Louis says as he pulls back, a little breathless. "You proved your point."

Nick laughs softly and pecks him on the mouth again.

"I need to get back to Harry," Louis protests.

"He sent me here, actually," Nick says.

"Of course he did." At this point, Louis should really not be surprised. He never knew Harry had such an affinity for playing cupid. Either way, Nick's lips are terribly convincing when they're not talking and by the time Louis manages to pull away for good, his own are pink and puffy. Harry grins wickedly when he sees him and Louis merely looks at him and points a finger at him in a gesture that is meant to say "not a word". Harry waggles his eyebrows, but doesn't say anything. He separates from the woman he's talking to - short black dress, high heels, dip-dyed blond hair, of course she's be gorgeous, Louis thinks - and presses a quick kiss to her cheek. She laughs and pushes him away and if it's not a trick of the light, Louis thinks Harry might be blushing. He shoots him a questioning look, but Harry mouths "later". They say their good-byes and stumble out into the night air, grinning and buzzing. Louis's lips still feel well-kissed.

"Later" it turns out that the woman Harry had been talking to is Caroline Flack, X-Factor presenter and close friend to Nick, apparently. Even "later" she'll eventually agree to go out with him, even. "Later" Nick calls and takes Louis out to a small gig in a small, divey club where a small band plays an amazing big set and Louis can't even find it in himself to mock Nick's hipster ways with how impressed he is. "Later" someone catches wind of Nick at one of their own gigs and even though Louis feels conflicted over the attention it's getting them, he can't deny that any attention is good for them. There's a lot of "later" waiting for them, but for now Louis's content with riding the happy buzz the night has put in his veins. It is Christmas, after all.

**The End**


End file.
